


Habit

by ezekiels



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezekiels/pseuds/ezekiels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gives Chris a ride home after Chris saves his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habit

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago but Mel insisted I finished. So this one is for Mel.

Chris was in Derek Hale’s car and his mind was having trouble understanding that. He should have called a taxi. He should have walked, should have crawled, rather than ending up in the passenger seat of Derek’s car being driven home like a child.

Not, of course, that children tended to be covered in the blood of their enemies.

That was just Chris.

Oddly, he rubbed his bloody hands against his jeans and eyed the silent stereo. He should turn it on and disturb the silence. It would make him feel like he was doing something and maybe hide the fact that he was shaking.

He couldn’t stop shaking and he didn’t know why.

He’d killed people before. It wasn’t exactly an unusual thing for him to do. He carried a gun everywhere he went and hid the same one under his pillow at night. He spent his whole life ready to kill.

It was just a little strange, he supposed, killing people to protect Derek Hale.

He glanced at Derek, who sat stoically and unaffected beside him. He didn’t seem particularly affected by what had just happened. His bruises were healed, his wounds mere scratches. If he was as uncertain and unnerved by what was happening, he was doing a good job hiding it.

Chris wasn’t sure he was hiding it at all.

He fidgeted, glanced out the window, reached for the stereo then changed his mind. His hand went to his holster on reflex and found it loose and empty. He reassured himself it must simply be under the chair. Right now, he didn’t trust himself to deal with inquiries over why his gun was discovered at the scene of a multiple homicide.

He really didn’t understand why he was shaking so badly.

Chris stopped short of rummaging around the mess of takeout containers at his feet to find his gun. It didn’t seem the polite thing to do.

He glanced sharply at Derek. Why should he worry about being polite to Derek? The werewolf sitting beside him was responsible for Victoria’s death. Chris should be shooting Derek point blank where he sat in the drivers seat, traffic be damned. They were only a block or two from home, from what Chris guessed. It wouldn’t be a long walk. It was a long time coming really. He should have done it earlier.

He wished he had his gun.

He wished he had his gun and blamed Kate fully for the fact he knew he wouldn’t pull the trigger even if he had his gun.

Kate had always had a dirty mind and nothing had amused her more than describing such things in detail when she was on stake out with Chris. She loved to watch him squirm. She particularly loved at how annoyed he got when she teased him about Derek Hale when they were tracking him all those months ago.

It was those conversations that had first made Chris suspicious that Kate had known Derek better than she let on. No one could know someone in that much detail from just looking at them from afar, not even Kate.

Somewhere between being suspicious of Kate and Gerard appearing at her funeral, Chris developed a small slivered of sympathy for Derek. It had morphed into hate before twisting itself into something that made Chris really wish Kate hadn’t been so detailed when describing her many dirty fantasies about Derek.

If Victoria were alive, she’d have the sense just to shoot Derek.

Victoria had always been a sensible no-nonsense person. He missed that about her and really wished he knew where his gun was.

Derek turned his car down an alley and parked it there alongside the apartment building Chris called home.

For some unexplainable reason, he didn’t dive from the car. He stayed completely still and continued to drip blood over the car’s interior.

Derek looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "You haven't gone into shock from saving me, have you? Because I'm not carrying you inside. I draw the line at drive you home."

Chris didn’t blush. "My gun," Chris said shortly. "I can't seem to find it."

Derek sighed. "It's probably under your seat. Just-"

"Rummage through your diet," Chris said with an admirable level of distain in his voice. "I thought it would be safer to wait until the car stopped so I wouldn’t acquaint myself with some left over Chinese." It almost sounded true.

Nudging aside the Chinese food in question, Chris felt around the bottom of the seat for his gun with his with his forehead oddly shoved against the dashboard. He persisted despite the awkwardness. He was not leaving Derek’s car without his gun.

"Oh, for god’s sake!" Derek growled and threw open the driver’s side door.

Chris tried to glance over but found himself wedged against the dashboard and unable to move. The car shook as Derek slammed his door shut and Chris managed to keep his pride for a few more heroic moments as he tried to free himself. Realizing it was no use, he sighed and awkwardly called out, “Um, Derek?"

Derek yanked open the passage side door. "Move,” he growled, his voice murderous.

Chris glared. Two can play the murderous voice game. "I can't. I'm stuck. Why is your car so small?"

Derek growled and grabbed him by the back of the collar. He pulled back, hard, and Chris came painfully free of the dashboard. No sooner was Chris sitting back in his seat than was Derek kneeling beside the car and stick his head between Chris' knees.

Chris didn’t bother lying now, even to himself.

He was blushing.

At least now he’s furious on top of being embarrassed. Being furious at Derek at least made him feel half like himself. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Getting your stupid gun," Derek growled. "So I can get you out of my stupid car."

Chris glared down at him. "I saved your life."

"You're dripping blood all over my car."

"Grow up. And you could have at least let me get out first?"

Derek's face appeared above Chris' knees. "Here," he growled, slapping Chris’ gun into his lap. He stood and stepped away from the car. “Now get out.”

“Very mature,” Chris muttered sarcastically and was all too happy to do what Derek asked.

However, Derek decided now was the time to undertake Impossible as his new profession. When Chris stepped out of the car, Derek was standing firmly in his way with the car door blocking Chris’ only other way out. Chris glared at him. "Move."

Derek cocked his head. "You've got your precious gun now. Make me."

Chris considered shooting him but he wasn’t in the mood to dispose of a whole car and body this late at night. He still had his shaking hands to deal with and, of course, Allison. There was also the fact that he’d just gone to so much effort to save him already that night that killing him himself would defeat the purpose.

He didn’t mean a single murderous thought seriously and the reason was more impossible than how Derek was currently acting.

“You’re not worth the bullets,” Chris told Derek coldly.

“Although I’m apparently worth your car.”

Chris blinked, remembering how he’d driven his car into the fray and totalled it. Derek had driven it somewhere secluded so that it wouldn’t be found at the scene. Chris remembered that. He remembered Derek taking his keys off him and driving away with Chris locked in Derek’s car.

 _It was worth it_ , Chris thought silently to himself.

There wasn’t a scratch on Derek now, from what he could see.

“I never liked that car much anyway,” Chris said nonchalantly with a shrug. He eyed Derek. “Now move.”

Derek moved, although not away. He grabbed Chris by the collar of his shirt and pulled him sharply forward. Chris knew what was coming before their lips met.

They’d kissed before. Kissing was becoming a strange but regular part of their relationship, like arguments and saving each other. Chris tried not to think too much about it. Most of the time, he pretended this part of their relationship didn’t exist.

Until it did.

Until it really, really did.

Their teeth clashed and the kiss was rough. Chris tried to steady it, tried to smooth out the roughness that jarred his mouth and burned his chin. He rested a hand gently on Derek’s cheek and the brutality of the kiss grew tender.

Their lips parted and lingered.

Derek sharply shoved him away. “Thanks for saving my life,” he said practically snapped. “I expect for you to pay for all the damage that blood has done to my car.”

With that said, Derek slammed the passenger door closed and left Chris to climb back into the driver’s seat. He reversed sharply without any thought to anyone’s safety and drove away.

Chris secured his gun inside his holster and rubbed the back of his neck. He hoped his habit of theirs stopped being a habit soon.

Which was the biggest lie he’d thought all night.


End file.
